Giggles
by Volcanic Lily
Summary: Ian is forced to listen in on a very giggly, lovestruck conversation between Amy and Sinead about the oh-so-wonderful, "adorkable," "romantic" Evan Tolliver. Oh, joy of joyful joys. Ian/Amy/Evan.


**Author's Note: At first, this was going to be a 100-word drabble in my "39 Drabbles" series. However, as I realized within... about five seconds of trying to write it, the idea just could not be expressed in so few words. So it turned into this one-shot, with over _2,000 _words. Haha, I'm rather glad I decided to turn it into one; I found out that there was so much I wanted to say!**

**Note: I do feel bad for being so mean to Ian in this one. You should know I'm not an Ian-hater by any means (AMIAN FOREVER!); I just wanted to write something to go with canon, in contrast to "Tutoring a Holt."**

**A warning: Amy and Sinead are a tad OOC. I know. But there were shades of this "giggly girly" behavior briefly shown in The Medusa Plot. So it's not actually so OOC, when you think about that.**

**And finally, a brief disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues or singing chipmunks. Although I wish I did.**

Girls. They could be so strange sometimes; he didn't understand them at all. And that was an odd thing for Ian Kabra to be thinking- seeing as there were so many of them that he interacted with so often: girls throwing themselves at him, trying to get his cell phone number, asking him out on dates, squealing, _giggling_….

It was the giggling that was currently driving him mad. It was the giggling that was currently causing him to think that girls were oh-so-strange and incomprehensible. It was the giggling that was currently making him contemplate locating that dreaded cat and willingly allowing him to scratch his eardrums out- just to make it stop.

Because it was uncharacteristic of both of them, of both Amy and Sinead, to giggle like that. And just as unusual that, when girls were giggling within his hearing range, they weren't giggling over him.

If only, he lamented. If they had been giggling over him, he could have simply asked them to kindly stop, and they would have done so without a second's thought. But this is precisely what happened whenever he tried:

"Could you stop that? I'm trying to look over these files. Would it kill you to allow me to get some research done?"

"Shhh! Now, Amy, you were saying…?" Giggle, giggle, giggle.

No, as he was being ever-so-constantly reminded of, they were behaving so irrationally, tittering like a pair of schoolgirls, over Evan Tolliver.

Evan irked Ian; he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because, for the past half an hour, it had been "Evan" this and "Evan" that and "oh, wasn't that so wonderfully romantic of Evan?"- _without a break!_ (Honestly, where in the world was that dratted cat when he actually needed him?)

"So, how long has it been now?" Sinead asked for the third time in the aforementioned half an hour.

And from the small screen in the Ekaterina's lap, Amy's face replied in a nauseatingly dreamy tone, "Five months, two weeks, and four days." She paused, glancing down at her gold-banded watch before adding, "And about three hours."

"Since he asked you out? Can you tell me how that went again?" prompted Sinead, her freckled features rapt.

Ian murmured, "Oh, please don't…." But of course, Sinead couldn't hear them over the two girls' giggling, which had (oh, horrors) started up yet again. And he didn't think that Amy could hear him at all; he was halfway across the room from Sinead.

He rolled his eyes up at the ceiling and continued _trying _tostudy the files on the desk in front of him by the lamplight. But all he could hear was that incessant tittering that sounded between snitches of information that he really did _not _care to know about Amy Cahill's love life.

"So we were just sitting in the computer lab," said Amy, "Talking like we had been every day for the last month, when suddenly, out of the blue…"

"Oh, come on," interjected Sinead, "Don't act like you didn't see it coming."

More giggling. "No, honestly, I didn't! I don't see how, but I really didn't…. So, all of a sudden, he pulls out this huge bouquet of roses- I don't know where he had been hiding them until then- and says, 'Amy, can I ask you a question?'"

"And then, when you said yes, he said, 'I really like you a lot. Will you be my girlfriend?'" Sinead finished with eagerness. "Awww!"

From his desk in the comm. center, Ian groaned. _If she knows the details so well already, why do we have to go over it yet again?_

"And of course, I said that I would," said Amy.

Sinead giggled again; it had to be the most irritating sound on the planet. "Well, of course- Evan is amazing! He's smart and kind and _so _romantic. Tell me about your first date again!"

They giggled some more. Ian grumbled under his breath some more. "Please don't tell her, Amy. I think I might go insane if I hear another word…."

Sinead swiveled in her padded computer chair and shot him a dirty look. She didn't say anything, but her expression was enough to make her thoughts clear: _Shut up, Ian. The insignificant, irritatingly sappy little details of Amy's oh-so-romantic love life are so much more important than the Vesper research you're trying to do!_

"All right, so we went out to dinner and a movie…."

"Classic," Sinead cut in.

Amy squealed. "I know, right?" She laughed a bit more, as if just to spite Ian. "We didn't even see a romantic movie; we saw _Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel_. But it was really cute. And when we were eating dinner, Evan was so nervous that he accidentally spilled spaghetti sauce all over his nice shirt!"

"Oh, that's terrible!" giggled Sinead.

"I know!" Amy exclaimed. "I felt so bad for him! He was so mortified; he thought I was going to think he was a klutzy idiot. But it was adorkable…." She trailed off with a dreamy sigh.

In contrast, Ian rather felt like- what was the word that Amy's immature little brother would use? Oh, yes: like barfing.

But the giggling hadn't stopped yet, nor had Amy's tale of woe: "So there we were, standing right on the doorstep, just saying goodbye- it was a little awkward, to be honest…."

"And…?" prompted Sinead. Clearly, the auburn-haired girl had heard this story numerous times before; she was leaning toward the screen, her face intent and excited. That alone was reason enough to cause Ian to grimace.

"And," Amy went on, her own tone as elated as her friend's, "Then, he just looks at me… and pauses. And he says with this cute little nervous stutter, 'Um, Amy… w-would you mind if I kissed you now?' It was so cute!"

"So cute!" echoed Sinead, adding another "awww!" and more ghastly giggles.

And Ian just rolled his eyes again. You didn't _ask _a girl if you could kiss her; you just _did! _Honestly. He considered pointing this ridiculousness out, if only to stall the natural conclusion of this story. Only he didn't quite fancy the thought of being pummeled to a bloody pulp by a pair of girls (even if Amy was hundreds of miles away, she might still find some way; you never knew with Cahills).

"And, well," continued Amy with a light laugh that was only slightly less irritating, "I don't think I actually said anything. I was so nervous that I don't think I could have gotten one word out! But I kind of nodded my head a little, and of course, he knew what that meant."

Ian shot a glance over at the screen in Sinead's lap, displaying Amy's blissful face. He could honestly never think of a time when she had been so happy. And the girls were giggling _yet again_; it made his head start to ache, and he put a hand to his temple.

"He kissed you?" said Sinead.

Amy's smile only widened. "Right."

"For how long?"

"Maybe three or four seconds. I'm not sure- I was sort of out of it…." Another lovestruck sigh, another unnecessary outburst of titters, another abrupt compulsion to vomit.

"And? How did it feel?"

"Amazing. Incredible. Wonderful. Perfect…" Amy paused, that same silly grin fixed on her face. "Do I need to find a thesaurus, or do you get the idea?"

Sinead laughed. "I think we get it, Amy."

"Oh, all right." Amy's merry voice took on a mournful edge. "And then, Dan showed up at the door, screaming and hollering that he was 'permanently scarred for life' and that he 'needed to wash his eyes out with soap….'"

"Don't forget that he also said that he had 'forever lost his childlike innocence after seeing that,'" Sinead added helpfully.

Amy groaned. "I know. It was so humiliating! He chased Evan off and then complained even more about it to me!"

Even in his perturbed state, Ian could feel the corners of his mouth quirking up into a slight smile. The sad thing was, he could actually see Dan Cahill doing that- and it was the most cheerful part of this story thus far.

But his smile was quickly weighed down again with Amy's next words. The Vesper files lay all but forgotten on the hardwood desk in front of him.

"But you know what, Sinead? In the end, I didn't really care, weird as it is. Because honestly, I couldn't think about anything else but what had just happened: that Evan had just given me my perfect first kiss…."

Ian's mind screeched to a halt. Suddenly, he couldn't even hear the sound of Amy and Sinead's giggling any longer. _What did she just say?_

He played it back in his mind; it sounded clear as if he was listening to a recording: "He kissed you?" "…three or four seconds…" "Amazing. Incredible. Wonderful. Perfect…" "…couldn't think about anything else…" "…_Evan had just given me my perfect FIRST KISS_…."

But… that wasn't even true.

He wasn't sure why it hit him with such great force, as if a Holt had just rammed into him in a full-body tackle. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so disillusioned. And he absolutely wasn't sure why that sinking feeling was present in his stomach: like indigestion, only so much more _un_pleasant.

It was odd. He wasn't sure why he had ever, even subconsciously, expected anything different. Two years had gone by, and it wasn't as if he had spent those two years pining over her or anything of the sort. He had, in fact, been very preoccupied with other things: his mother's imprisonment, his father's disappearance, his taking over of their art dealership, being _poor_. They had hardly even talked.

So why, then, had he expected, in some distant corner of his mind, that she might still carry some sort of faintly flickering torch for him? He knew that she now had a boyfriend. And there was no way that he could _not _know, after the past forty minutes of torment, that she was deeply infatuated with Evan.

How could he think she still might care for him? And why would he think that? And why did it feel so unsettling that she didn't?

It had to be because she was lying. It wasn't merely that she didn't retain any feelings for him; she was _lying _about what had happened when she had. She was lying to one of her closest friends. And it had to be deliberate, as well- because surely, she hadn't forgotten….

Or had she? He took another sidelong look at the computer screen. Amy's face was practically glowing with joy, and she and Sinead were laughing together again at some other "unbelievably romantic" and "adorkable" thing that Evan had done.

She certainly didn't seem to remember a certain spontaneous brush of the lips that had happened two long years ago. Maybe it hadn't meant as much to her as he had assumed.

It bothered him that there was a chance that she had forgotten. And it bothered him further that it bothered him to begin with. One would think that _he _was the one still carrying a torch….

He stood up from his chair, and the giggling from across the room turned abruptly into welcome silence. Sinead looked at him questioningly, and Amy did, as well- she seemed to be only noticing his presence for the first time.

His voice sounded curt and too obviously troubled to his ears. "I think I'll go feed the cat," he said, then turned on the heels of his polished black dress shoes and headed for the door.

Behind him, he could hear the girls' questioning voices: "Did he just offer to feed the cat? I thought he hated Saladin."

"I thought so, too, Amy. And Saladin's not so fond of him, either. Which is weird, since he took a liking to Evan so fast…."

And then, it all dissolved into uncharacteristic giggles once more.

Girls. They could be so strange sometimes; he didn't understand them at all.

**Author's Note: And again, I'm sorry for picking on Ian; I really do love the guy, you know. But I wrote this to kind of go along with canon.**

**So, thoughts? Comments? Rants about what a jerk I am to Ian? I'd really like to hear from you, so I'll beg like usual: please review! :D**

**~Lily**


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